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Most shoppers would like it if groceries were cheaper for all of the customers of a supermarket instead of just those customers willing to swear fealty by having a small plastic rectangle to look after for decades or a phone app to update so as not to be financially shafted every which way when buying basic foodstuffs.



Dung beetle Martin Jones paused from rolling a ball of poo up a hill recently and stated that if they were told they could have a slightly bigger ball of poo if they kept hold of a plastic rectangle or a tiny computer they would say no thank you. They were surprised that humans would accept this tiresome life admin in perpetuity rather than simply asking for it to stop.



Supermarket allegiance cards trembled in wallets at the thought of being winked out of existence. They’ve been having a lovely life travelling about the place being credited with making food cost less when actually they are the middle man in an unnecessarily complicated system. The BOGOF gods of encouraging eating too much laughed reassuringly and said the juggernaut of data gathering has two accelerators and no brakes.


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Following warnings for UK citizens to observe the clout-casting laws or face severe penalties, I interviewed a spokesman for the Metropolitan Police.



‘Why now?’ I asked.



‘It’s the Bank Holiday. Brings ‘em out’, he told me. ‘We might not necessarily agree with the law but it’s our solemn duty to enforce it’.



‘And what, exactly, does casting a clout mean?’



‘If you know, you know’, he said, tapping his nose conspiratorially.



‘Erm, that’s the problem. If I don’t know what it is, might I do it accidentally?’



‘Look up Regina vs . . . oh, can’t remember the name. It was in the 1960s. Ignorance of the law is no defence’.



‘Am I casting a clout now?’ I asked him.



‘No’.



‘If you tell me I can pass it on to NewsBiscuit readers and they won’t get in trouble’.



‘NewsBiscuit? You barstards, you hate the Met. All because of a few murders and rapes. And a bit of corruption. I hope some of your readers cast a clout before May 31st so we can bang ‘em up!’



So you’ve been warned. Well, sort of. Don’t do anything which might be interpreted as casting a clout before the end of May. And if you do, try not to do it in London. Wales should be fine, anything goes there.



If you have been affected by any of the issues raised in this story could we gossip about you in the office? It’s really quiet today.


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The Government is planning a radical overhaul of Clown Services with Juggling, Glittering and Honking all severely affected.



‘To be honest, I don’t know why we even have a Ministry of Clowning’, a spokesman told us. ‘It’s 2025 – can’t people make their own cars fall apart?’



Clowning is one of the last vestiges of the welfare state. Clown Services were famously ignored by the Thatcher cuts. She always defended the clowns in gratitude for their assistance during the Miners’ Strike, when they could be seen wading into crowds of angry miners with their big shoes flapping. Derek Matthews suffered ‘glitter eye’ at Orgreave in 1984; he remains bitter about the encounter to this day.



‘Those bastards showed us no mercy. Bucket after bucket of glitter. My mate’s deaf in one ear after all the honkings they subjected him to. I don’t even know why they were there – nearest circus were miles away, they just kept bussing them in. Well they had to, all their cars disintegrated near Barnsley’.



Most people remember the Clown Riots of 1991/2 when rampaging clowns rearranged place settings at weddings and stole some fruit. It was never returned. It’s probably poo by now. Does Britain face another Summer of Clown Discontent? We asked a police spokesman but he was eating a doughnut and we couldn’t make out what he was saying. Hate it when that happens.



Without government funding it’s feared that we might see large numbers of homeless clowns on our streets where they fall easy prey to morris dancers and slightly disorganised crime. One thing is certain: if Margaret Thatcher were alive today she’d be scratching furiously at the coffin lid.


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